


Your Needs Answered

by enigmaticblue



Series: A Friend Is Your Needs Answered [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley has no experience to draw on when it comes to being a friend. He muddles through anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Needs Answered

_“Your friend is your needs answered_.”~ Kahlil Gibran

 

Wesley wakes, and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s still sore, but that pain is fading with every passing day, and he no longer wakes up with the same sense of disorientation.

 

He at least knows _where_ he is, and has a vague sense of _who_ he is, and that’s more than he’d had a few days before. And, even better, Wesley isn’t alone anymore.

 

There’s some piece of him that fears being alone, an atavistic fear without logical explanation, and he wonders if it’s some remnant from his past life. Or maybe it’s just a product of waking up alone in an eerily empty hospital.

 

He rolls out of bed slowly. The stitches in his side don’t pull like they had when he’d first woken up, and he knows that he’s healing, but it’s slow. Spike, in spite of his serious injuries, is already doing better than Wesley.

 

Then again, Spike is also a vampire, and the Slayers had found plenty of human blood at the hospital to speed his return to health—or whatever counts for health for a vampire.

 

Wesley showers, grateful for the hot water, and even more grateful that the Slayers had made a run to his apartment for his clothing. He’s pretty sure he’s lost weight, since his jeans and shirts are looser than he’d expect, but they still fit better than what he’d scrounged in the hospital.

 

When he’s dressed and ready to start the day, Wesley heads downstairs.

 

Min greets him with a bright grin. “Hi, Wes! How are you feeling?”

 

“Still sore, but better than yesterday,” Wesley replies, which is his usual response. “Where are the others?”

 

“Not sure,” Min admits. “I got tasked with keeping a look out here. But I think Buffy is coming in today.”

 

Wesley frowns. “Should I know who that is?”

 

“Probably,” Min says, “but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. She’s the original Slayer. I think you were her Watcher at some point.”

 

Wesley still doesn’t know exactly what that means, what it means that he’s a Watcher, or had been, but he doesn’t want to ask. “Anything I should be aware of?”

 

“Well, Spike was in love with her,” Min offers. “So, that could make things interesting.”

 

Wesley feels a pang at that, although he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s just that Spike has become something of a friend over the last few days, a link to Wesley’s near-past, even though he doesn’t remember.

 

There’s Faith, of course, but by her own admission they hadn’t seen each other in a while, and she doesn’t know what had happened to him. She doesn’t know why the others had died, what lengths they’d gone to in order to save the world.

 

Hell, _Wesley_ doesn’t know what lengths they’d gone to, but Spike does, and Spike had been kind to him. Faith had too, in her own way, but Wesley gets the sense that their relationship had been far more complicated than the one he shared with Spike.

 

“We’re expecting more reinforcements,” Min replies. “We need them.”

 

Technically, Wesley hasn’t been allowed out of the hotel, although no one would probably stop him if he really tried to leave, but Wesley knows that he’s something of a liability. Muscle memory might be a powerful thing, but Wesley isn’t in a place to check and see if he still has the same reflexes and abilities.

 

Then again, he’s injured, and he doesn’t want to put anyone else at risk, or inconvenience anybody.

 

“Anything I should be worried about?” Wesley asks.

 

Min shrugs. “I don’t think so. Their drama doesn’t have to be your drama, you know? That’s the mantra you should have when dealing with Slayers.”

 

“Duly noted,” Wesley replies. “Thanks.”

 

“Hey, I kind of have a proprietary interest,” Min says. “You’re the first Watcher I’ve ever had.”

 

Wesley frowns, feeling the urge to point out that he barely knows what a Watcher is, but stifling it. If he can give some aid, then he will do what he can.

 

“So, how are you feeling?” Min asks.

 

“Better,” Wesley says immediately. “Much.”

 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be off the injured-reserve list soon,” Min replies, determinedly cheerful. “And we could use you for more than just your brain.”

 

“Use him for what?”

 

A blonde woman has entered the hotel, and Wesley frowns, certain that he hasn’t seen her before. He stiffens at the faint tone of derision in her voice. He doesn’t know her, but she apparently knows him.

 

Min frowns. “Wesley does okay.”

 

“Probably better than the last time I saw him,” she says, and her face softens. “Sorry, old memories.”

 

“I’m afraid you have the advantage,” he says stiffly.

 

She blinks. “Then it’s true?”

 

Wesley can guess what she’s referring to, but he isn’t willing to meet her halfway. “As I am not a mind reader, I don’t know what you think is true or not true.”

 

“You’ve lost your memories.”

 

“That part is true,” Wesley replies, and the story is easier to tell now. “I woke up with no memory of who I am or how I came to be in the hospital. So, I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are.”

 

She has the grace to look a bit ashamed. “Buffy Summers.”

 

Wesley raises his eyebrows. “Ah. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Buffy blinks, and for a moment Wesley thinks she’s going to argue, but then she smiles, and it makes her look younger and a little softer. “Same. Min, have you seen Spike?”

 

There’s an edge to her voice, and Min says, “No idea where he is, sorry.”

 

Buffy nods tightly and stalks out. Wesley glances at her. “No idea?”

 

“Their drama, not our drama,” Min replies. “Seriously, make that your mantra.”

 

Wesley smiles. “I think I’m going to get something to eat.”

 

It turns out to be something of a mistake, because he can hear raised voices as he approaches the kitchen, and quickly figures out that it’s Buffy.

 

“What am I supposed to think, Spike?” she demands, and Wesley freezes where he is, unwilling to interrupt. “You don’t call, you don’t write, what the hell?”

 

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” Spike replies, sounding sulky.

 

Buffy makes a sound that’s pure frustration. “I told you I loved you!”

 

“And do you?” Spike asks quietly. “When I’m not dying, would you still say that?”

 

There’s a long silence that Wesley feels like a weight in his chest. “Spike…”

 

“Yeah,” Spike says heavily. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“You’ll always be important to me,” Buffy says quickly, sympathetically. “You’ll always be in my heart.”

 

He snorts. “Right. Thanks for that.”

 

“Don’t be like that,” Buffy snaps. “If you had told me—”

 

“Don’t lie to me,” Spike says, low and harsh.

 

Wesley starts backing away, suddenly very sure that he doesn’t want to be found here eavesdropping on a conversation he has no business overhearing.

 

He trips over his feet, but he doesn’t think they hear him, and he escapes without anybody coming to find him. Wesley retreats to the office, which is the place he feels most comfortable, other than his room.

 

No, scratch that, he still feels more comfortable in the office.

 

He soon has his nose buried in a book, trying very hard not to think about the conversation he’d just overheard.

 

It’s hard, though. Wesley is certain that he’s loved and lost at some point—at least, he hopes so—but he has no memory of it. There’s just a sympathetic ache in his chest, because Spike is a friend, or the closest thing that he has to one. And there’s some part of him that feels as though he knows what Spike is going through, even if he doesn’t have the memories to match.

 

It’s like the scar across his throat. He doesn’t know how he came by it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

 

Spike comes wandering into his office about thirty minutes later. “The kitchen is free if you’re hungry.”

 

“You knew I was there?” Wesley asks with a wince.

 

Spike rolls his eyes. “Vampire, here. I heard you, although I’m pretty sure Buffy didn’t.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Wesley offers, although he’s not sure whether he’s apologizing for overhearing the conversation or its outcome.

 

Some indefinable emotion passes across Spike’s face. “Buffy and me—we’re no good for each other. We fight and fuck and make up, but I can’t—sometimes I think there might be such a thing as loving someone too much.”

 

Wesley hesitates. He has no personal experiences to draw upon, and he probably shouldn’t be offering advice, but he feels compelled to say, “I don’t know if you can love someone too much, but if they can’t return your feelings…”

 

“Yeah,” Spike says wearily. “Story of my life, mate.”

 

“Are you going to be okay?” Wesley asks.

 

Spike shrugs. “Not my first rodeo, and we have a job to do.”

 

Wesley stands up and swings the door closed. “We do, but we also have about ten Slayers on the premises, and I’m not cleared for field duty yet.”

 

“I am,” Spike replies.

 

“Do you want to go out and kill things with a bunch of Slayers tailing you, or do you want a drink?” Wesley asks.

 

Spike perks up at that. “You have alcohol?”

 

“Thankfully, Faith agreed that it’s medicinal,” Wesley says. “Also, I apparently had a stash at my apartment.”

 

“And you’re sharing it with me,” Spike says. “I’m touched.”

 

Wesley smiles. “You should be. I don’t have a limitless supply.” He pours a couple of fingers into two tumblers and hands one to Spike.

 

“Ta,” Spike mutters. He sips and says, “Who says you’re not cleared for the field?”

 

Wesley shrugs. “Faith seems to think I need to take it easy.”

 

“Well, given that you nearly died a couple of weeks ago, she’s probably right,” Spike says. “But nothing to prevent you from having a drink.”

 

Wesley hitches a shoulder. “Precisely.” They sip in companionable silence. “You going to be okay working with her?”

 

Spike snorts, not bothering to ask to whom Wesley is referring. “We’ve worked together under worse conditions, and with Faith here, I have no idea how long she’ll actually stay.”

 

“Wouldn’t that be for the best?” Wesley asks gently.

 

Spike closes his eyes. “Hell if I know, Wes. Hell if I know.”

 

Wesley sits down next to him and refills Spike’s drink. “I can lock the door.”

 

“That offer is more tempting than I’d like to admit,” Spike says, “but I’m here for a job, and if they need me, they need me.”

 

Wesley hesitates. “Would you be willing to spar with me?”

 

“Sure,” Spike replies, sounding surprised. “But why?”

 

“Because it will be something for you to do,” Wesley replies. “And it will help me determine what my weaknesses are, and what my muscles remember.”

 

Spike throws back the rest of his drink. “All right, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

Wesley steels himself for what’s likely to be a painful session, given his soreness, but he feels it’s worth it. Spike already has a little more spring in his step as he leads the way to the basement.

 

After all, Spike had been the first person in his new life who had actually seemed happy to see him, who knew his recent past, and who had treated him with real camaraderie. Wesley can’t help but return the favor.


End file.
